


heroes don't take sick days

by pastisregret



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, marinette cares toooo much, sick Chat, taking care of chat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastisregret/pseuds/pastisregret
Summary: Getting sick wasn’t apart of the job description.(or, that ig pic of sick chat noir did smth to my heart :((( poor baby)





	heroes don't take sick days

**Author's Note:**

> no one:  
me: okay but what if we made this marichat

Getting sick wasn’t apart of the job description.

“I thought the miraculous protected against stuff like this,” he says, grabbing a tissue to blow into. Plagg floated up next to him, Camembert in his tiny paws and looking cautiously.

“The miraculous protects against bad injuries on the job, or tries to at least. We can’t stop every bruise and cut from happening. But for the flu?” Plagg shoves the entire bit of cheese into his mouth, talking around it as he continues. “You’re on your own for this one.”

Adrien blew harshly into the tissue, glaring at his reflection in his computer monitor. “This _sucks_. I never got sick before.”

“It’s _school_. People are going to be spreading germs around like they’re passing notes. You’ll live.”

“Will I?” Adrien asks, coughing. He felt his throat ache, horribly dry, and reached over for the cup of tea Nathalie had brewed for him.

“Yes,” Plagg answers, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know how you’re gonna make it through today’s patrol. You better message Ladybug and tell her you can’t make it.”

“And miss patrol?” he asks, nearly sputtering on his tea.

“You’re _sick_, Adrien.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not. Anyone with two eyes could tell that. Or, anyone with a phone.” Plagg gestures to Adrien’s phone, where there was a steady stream of notifications coming in from Instagram, a result from his post.

“Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have posted that,” he admits. “But, _Adrien’s_ sick. Chat Noir’s not.”

“Adrien, you’re Chat Noir.”

“That’s not what Paris thinks. Paris just knows Chat Noir as a responsible, fun-loving superhero. And,” he starts, setting his cup down and getting up from his chair, “Chat Noir’s also due for patrol in twenty minutes. A patrol he will not miss, by the way.”

“You’re incredible,” Plagg mutters. “You should be staying in, not headed out.”

Adrien looks at him, shocked. “And let crime win?”

“And let yourself _rest_,” his kwami corrects. Plagg sighed, looking at Adrien with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, nose red and cheeks flushed. A quick glance down, and Plagg noticed the kitten slippers he had on, slippers he was sure Adrien didn’t have before. Slippers that were now walking over to the window, where they planted themselves down.

“Plagg, we’re headed out,” Adrien says, arms crossed and holding tightly to each end of his blanket.

“Adrien, we’re not,” Plagg counters, sitting down firmly on the computer desk.

“Just a quick patrol. Please?”

Plagg sighs. Adrien looked awful, bad enough that he was sure he could drop dead right then and there. There was no way to guarantee he’d be good enough for any unprompted akuma attack, and should he not keep his distance from Ladybug, Marinette could get sick next, causing all sorts of superhero issues.

But, Adrien was stubborn. And well, Plagg was too tired to argue any longer.

“If you fall off a rooftop because you’re too sick to stay balanced, that’s on you,” Plagg says.

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a ‘be careful.’ We don’t want Ladybug to be stuck babysitting you all through patrol.”

“There’s no way she’ll find out,” Adrien says, throwing off the blanket from his shoulders. “I’m an amazing actor.”

\--

“You’re sick,” is the first thing to come from Marinette’s mouth, looking at Chat Noir as she leapt onto the same rooftop he was on. He was balancing himself on his baton, and although the mask covered up most of his features, she could tell by the tired look in his eyes and all too unnatural pale something was up.

“No, I’m not,” Chat says, followed immediately by a harsh cough, one that sounded just absolutely _terrible_.

“Yes, you are.” Frowning, Marinette drew closer, a hand coming to rest on his arm. “Why did you show up for patrol?”

“Duty calls.”

“Then tell them to call back later,” she responds with, eyes scanning just how ill he looked. She hesitated for a second, then raised her hand past his arm to rest on his forehead for a second before pulling back. “Chat, you’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you _aren’t_,” she retorts, wondering just how badly he felt. “You should’ve stayed home or messaged me, kitty.”

“My kwami said the same thing- “ Chat starts off.

“And you should’ve listened,” Marinette adds in.

“But I couldn’t leave my lady to patrol alone.”

Marinette sighs, looking up at him. Chat looked practically miserable, and yet was so adamant in his choice to come she knew there would be no point in arguing. She’d do the same thing in his situation if roles were reversed. No, the only option would be to work around it, to adapt and find a solution that worked for the two of them.

Her eyes looking to the streets below, Marinette felt her brain light up, an idea emerging.

“Why don’t we do patrol on the ground today?” she suggests. “I don’t think bouncing around on rooftops will do you any favors.”

“You always think of the best things,” he says, smiling. Marinette notes it’s not as strong as his typical ones and yet doesn’t mind it, glad he managed to do one at all.

Marinette realizes just how much she misses Chat’s jokes about two minutes in, sniffles and coughs nowhere close to his usual assortment of puns and teases. She also notices he’s way worse than he said so, keeping silent count of every sneeze and cough he makes and wondering how he made it out of bed, much less out to patrol.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” she asks after his sixth sneeze, unable to keep her thoughts to himself.

He coughs, his eighth one so far. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, kicking a rock a few centimeters up ahead of them. Chat opens his mouth to respond, but instead is thrown into a coughing fit, one that makes him stop walking and throw a hand over his mouth to stop the spread of germs. When he’s finally stopped, he looks at her with teary eyes.

“Maybe some water would be nice,” he practically whispers out, voice hoarse.

Water. Marinette could get some water, no problem. Scanning the street, she notices they’re only a block away from her home.

“Let’s go to the bakery nearby,” she says, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along before he can disagree. He nods, voice too sore to say anything.

“You should wait outside,” she says, hand coming to his arm as he coughs again. “Will you be alright alone for a second?”

“I won’t be alone,” he manages to say, free arm coming up to gesture in front of them. Turning her head, Marinette feels her nerves spike up.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” Alya exclaims, phone in hand. “Time to spare for an interview?”

Marinette bites her lip, thinking. Leaving Chat out here would do no good if Alya interviewed him and found out how truly sick he was. And if she brought him inside, he could contaminate the bakery with one bad cough.

No. She’d just have to find another solution.

“Sorry,” Marinette says, wrapping her arm around Chat and pulling him close. Grabbing her yo-yo, she aims off into the distance and throws the string out. “Seems all our time just ran out. Catch you later!”

She lands them on a rooftop too far away to be spotted by Alya, or any passerby. Letting go of Chat, she watches as he slowly balances himself, baton expanding so he can lean up on it.

“No water?” he asks.

“No water,” she answers, before bringing an arm up to rest on his shoulder, catching his gaze. “Chat.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums out, eyes closed.

Marinette watches his forehead, frowning. He’s sweating, beads starting to form.

“I think it’s time you head home,” she says, watching how his eyes opened and stared at her, shocked.

“But patrol- “

“Patrol’s over,” she interrupts. “I’m calling it early. Go home and get some rest, Ladybug’s orders.”

“But- “

“Paris will be fine,” she assures him, wincing at the sound of his voice. “You won’t, not if you’re stuck here and forcing yourself to push through.”

“But- “

“Everything will be fine, Chat. Go home.” She hesitates for a moment. “_Please_.”

He can’t argue, voice too sore for him to even attempt. Instead, Chat nods, a silent action that sends Marinette jumping for something to say, hoping she can brighten up her sick kitten if only a little.

“If you can, go to the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery later,” she says, watching how his ears perked up. “I want someone to check up on you.”

\--

Nighttime comes too soon and not soon enough. Marinette’s standing with her arms pressed against the railing, eyes scanning below. She’s not sure when Chat might show up or if he even will, but figures it’s best to keep a close eye out.

With the sound of metal hitting the floor behind her, Marinette realizes he’s crept up on her. She turns around, watching Chat Noir straighten his spine.

“Ladybug said to come here,” he says, voice still scratchy, albeit a bit better than earlier.

“She asked me to prepare some things for you,” Marinette lies.

“Did she?”

“Yep.” She bends down, grabbing the basket she had gotten ready earlier. Pulling it up, she holds it out for him to open. “Take a look.”

Chat listens, drawing closer and slowly opening the basket up. With a soft breath sucked in, he starts pulling stuff out.

“What’s this?” he asks, holding a thermos that’s securely closed and sloshing around as he moves it.

“Soup,” she answers. “My mom’s favorite recipe to use whenever I get sick.”

“And this?” A dozen small paper packets wrapped up in a tiny neat bow.

“Some teas from my aunt,” Marinette answers. “She gifted us them when she returned from Milan. They’re supposed to be really good when you’re under the weather.”

His eyes almost twinkle in the light as he grabs the next item, green like his eyes. “And this?”

“I thought you might get cold, so I made a quick scarf for you. Can’t say it’s my best work, but it’ll keep you warm and cozy and that’s more than enough for now.”

“And these?” He holds out the last thing, a paper bag with the same stamp from the bakery downstairs.

“Pastries. Ladybug mentioned how much you like them.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Marinette sets the basket down on the ground, helping him put them all back inside. “She just wanted to make sure you’ll feel better soon.”

“Well,” Chat says, smiling, “do you think you could tell her I really appreciate this.”

Marinette looks up at him, taking note of how, for a second, it’s as if he’s all better again.

“Yeah, I think she already knows.” 

**Author's Note:**

> mari-cheres on tumblr


End file.
